2007
by boredandlazy01
Summary: It's New Year's Eve, 2006. Could the new year bring a new start?
1. Chapter 1

AN: This fic is based as much on HA canon as possible, since canon stories are always my favourite. I've randomly decided that the characters were 9/10 in 1999/2000, so they're 17ish here. This is just a short intro.

* * *

"So, Phoebs. Is it looking like Rhonda's?" Helga sighed.

"I'm afraid so," her best friend replied, sitting herself primly on the edge of Helga's bed.

Helga groaned, opening her wardrobe to survey her outfit choices. "Don't you ever wish something exciting would happen, Phoebs? Some break to the monotony of our existence? We've done the same thing for New Years for the past three years."

"I will admit, our lives seem to have lacked variety lately," Phoebe agreed.

Helga sighed again. "Well, the whole gang will be there I suppose, and there'll probably be alcohol. Maybe it won't be so bad." Helga had tried to be more optimistic the past few years. Seeing as her old provider of optimism was off in the jungle somewhere.

Phoebe smiled. "Yeah, I'm sure it will be fine."

"You bring your outfit with you?" Helga asked.

"Yep!" She looked down to the backpack at her feet. Just then her phone buzzed in her hand, and Helga noticed that her expression went strange as she read the text.

"Who's that?" asked Helga bluntly.

Phoebe jumped a little. "Oh just Gerald."

"What's Tall-Hair got to say?"

"That there might be another party to go to."

Helga raised her eyebrows (now plural). "Where?" It seemed awfully short notice.

"He didn't say yet. He says he'll keep us informed."

Helga considered calling him for more info, but she figured it could wait. She shrugged. "Well I have to take a shower anyway. Spent an hour on some bullshit Pilates workout; I smell like a hog." She grabbed her pink dressing gown off the back of her purple door. "Be back in ten. Try not to trash the room while I'm gone."

Phoebe nodded with a smile, used to these sorts of 'commands'.

Helga closed the door behind her and made her way to the bathroom. She turned on the water, left her clothes on a shelf, and stepped into the hot shower with a sigh. Grabbing a loofa, she began to sing as she scrubbed. Helga only sang in the shower, and she figured the world ought to be grateful for that.

After a minute or two, she heard the doorbell, and some commotion as her father yelled for someone. Maybe it was Gerald, or one of those UPS guys her mom liked to flirt with.

She washed her hair, gave her unruly eyebrows a quick tweeze, and walked back to her room wrapped in her soft dressing gown.

Phoebe's eyes followed her as she entered and started to put her clothes away, that strange expression back on her face. Except it was stranger this time.

She turned to her friend with a sigh. "Okay Phoebs, what's up?"

Phoebe looked almost scared. "Arnold just called by."


	2. Chapter 2

AN: So there's some swearing in this story, just as a warning. It's Helga Pataki as a teenager; I just don't think it would be realistic otherwise.

* * *

"...What?" said Helga. She knew perfectly well what Phoebe had said, but her brain wasn't working properly.

"Arnold. Called by." The look of sympathy in her eyes was almost frightening.

Helga's legs carried her to the bed and deposited her onto it. "What? Why! How is he here! What does he want!"

Phoebe met her eyes steadily. "He wanted to invite us to his house tonight. He says... He says he's back for good."

What? That couldn't be true... A vortex opened at Helga's core, sucking away confidence, sanity, and the last two years without him. "No," she said quietly. "Phoebe, no! What am I going to do!" she begged.

She looked pained. "I don't know... You could try, Helga, to maintain the attitude you've had in his absence. You've really grown and come out of your shell. Arnold doesn't have to change everything."

"But he will! He will! He always does! You remember what it was like, Phoebe."

"I do."

"I can't... I'm so happy he's back! I've dreamt about this, wrote him so many letters I never sent." She wrote one every week, in fact, but she wasn't about to share that with Phoebe. She had done a great job pretending to be sane these last few years. "But I'm so scared..."

Memories of their relationship swirled in her head. The fights, the passion, the happiness and utter despair.

When she'd finally gotten Arnold, it had been nothing like she'd imagined in her silly girlish dreams. Oh, sometimes it was. Sometimes it was so much better. But... She was still her. And he wasn't perfect, either. Such a storm they had created between them, when they were so young. What would it be like now they were almost grown up? Would it be better, now they had matured? Or would this be the end? The true end?

She remembered their last break up. The one that stuck. The one that, she was pretty sure, made him decide to leave the fucking continent.

 _"I can't do this anymore, Helga," Arnold said, his voice thick and hoarse. He sat at his desk with his back to her, his head in his hands._

 _"Oh, here we go again!"_

 _"I mean it. She means nothing to me! And neither did Lila, or Rhonda, or whoever."_

 _"Well what am I supposed to think, Arnoldo? Every week, someone new has your attention, and you forget I exist!"_

 _"I'm sorry I have friends, Helga," he said scathingly._

 _She stood as if struck. He turned to glance at her. "Ohh, fuck you!" she spat, turning to grab her coat and leave._

 _He was up from his chair. "Helga, I'm sorry."_

 _"Sorry about what? Sorry that you're dating such a hopeless charity case with no friends? The last thing I need is your pity!"_

 _"No. I'm sorry." He had grasped both of her arms to prevent her from leaving, and suddenly had the sort of humble calmness that only guilt brought him. With her, at least. Humble and calm was the face he always wore with everyone else._

 _She exhaled in anger, wanting to storm out, but also wanting to kiss him and hear him say he'd never leave her. What he said was the opposite._

 _"Helga. I meant what I said. I can't do this anymore. I love you so much, but... I don't understand why this isn't working. Maybe we need some time apart. Or maybe...we aren't really meant for each other."_

 _Helga felt the core of herself tear at those words. Some vital part of her was bleeding. This was different to all the other fights and 'break-ups'. She could tell he'd been thinking about this. Thinking about leaving her. She felt like she was in a nightmare she would surely awake from. Nothing this painful could be real._

 _Arnold took a deep, shaky breath, as if his own words had hurt him. "I'm sorry," he said again. "I'm so sorry."_

That had been the second-last time she'd seen him. The last time had been a week later, on the 28th of December. He had shown up on her doorstep, told her he was leaving the next day, and pulled her into a conflicted kiss. A kiss goodbye. Helga had been too distraught at the time to tell him to shove it up his ass.

* * *

AN: This interpretation of Arnold and Helga's previous relationship comes from Craig Bartlett's comments (he's the creator of HA), who said that Arnold and Helga would go out in their early teens but have a tempestuous relationship, and finally break up before Arnold leaves for San Lorenzo and the planned series 'The Patakis' takes place.


	3. Chapter 3

AN: So I know it's no longer New Years, but I decided to continue this story anyway. Humour me.

* * *

Helga's head had fallen into her hands under the weight of the memories. What should she do? How could she just rock up on his doorstep after everything?

But then...how could she not? If he was really back for good, she wasn't going to be able avoid him forever. And she didn't really want to. After all, in spite of everything, she was still hopelessly, interminably in love with boy. She just wasn't ready for this. Not at all. How could he even expect her to come when she was summoned, after the way he had left her?

She groaned. "Phoebe, what should I do?"

She looked over to see her friend's concerned, conflicted face. "I don't know, Helga. It's really up to you."

She growled. "That's no good! Tell me, Phoebs! I mean..." she trailed off, at a loss for words for once. But she knew Pheobe understood everything that was left unsaid.

"He really wanted you to go," was all she offered. "He was quite emphatic about it."

Helga threw herself to her feet with a snort and began to pace. "Of course he was! He _emphatically_ left and now he's _emphatically_ back! Well I don't have to do everything he wants!" she almost yelled, half just trying to convince herself of this.

"Of course not," Phoebe agreed strongly. "You do whatever is best for you, Helga. You don't owe him anything."

With that, a crack appeared in Helga's newfound resolve. "...Oh but I do, Phoebe..." Where would she even be without Arnold? She had tried to repay her numerous debts to him, even helped him find his parents, but she had never truly felt worthy of him.

And she knew that that had been one of the major problems between them. Part of the reason she used to get so jealous was that she had always felt he was, in some way, too good for her.

Well that attitude was going out the window. As Dr Bliss said, you didn't have to stick with the same unhelpful patterns all your life. Your behaviour, and even your thoughts, could be within your power to change. It took practice, but it had worked for her in the past. Maybe it was time for Arnold to meet the new her. Whatever the future held for them, whether romance or just friendship or simply an ending, it was not going to be the same as the past. She had decided.

Phoebe had waited patiently on her bed as she paced and tried to order her thoughts, and Helga turned to her now. She took a deep breath. "I'm going."

Phoebe simply nodded.


	4. Chapter 4

AN: Well, hello everyone! Can't believe it's been a year; time to finish this story.

I also can't believe it's been almost _ten years_ since 2007! The last Harry Potter book came out, Twilight was all the rage, and One Direction were in playschool (maybe not, I have no idea). Kids, in ten years you'll be looking back thinking 'fuck, I can't believe that was ten years'. It's the circle of life, or something.

* * *

Helga picked at her skirt as she walked. Godammit, why had she worn this dumb outfit? She looked like a Barbie. And why was there _so much fluff_?

"Helga, there won't be any of your skirt left," Phoebe said gently.

"GGRRRR!" Helga yelled in frustration and dropped the hem she had been tearing at. "I just...! I should change." She turned around to start walking home, but Phoebe caught her elbow firmly.

"Helga. You look lovely. I don't think your anxiety is due to your choice of outfit."

"I'm not anxious!" she said automatically. "I'm just...anxious." She hung her head in defeat.

Her shorter friend smiled up at her with those sympathetic eyes. "It's perfectly natural to be anxious. But postponing meeting him won't make it any easier. I'm sure it will go fine."

Helga looked back at Phoebe's encouraging face, not even trying to hide her own vulnerability. After a few moments, she took a deep breath and straightened up. "You're right, Pheebs. You're right." She felt some of her courage returning. "I'm a Pataki, for crying out loud! He's a boy, not a monster."

Phoebe smiled. "Precisely".

And so they marched on.

Helga _did_ feel a little self-conscious about her outfit choice, though - it was out of the ordinary for her. These days, she tended to be more about the jeans and combats than skirts and dresses, but she had made an exception for tonight. She wore a black, velvet skirt which she was now feeling was sluttily short. Good thing she was also wearing black tights. On top, she wore a pale pink jumper in the shade she knew he liked on her. To add a bit of edge to the ensemble, she was at least wearing some of her favourite black knee-high boots.

One notable absence from the outfit was her pink bow. She normally kept it under a cap on her head, or wore it on her wrist or around her neck. But Arnold knew the significance of that bow, so it wasn't an option tonight. It would be like wearing a necklace that said, 'Arnold, I'm still in love with you, that's cool right?' Helga smiled darkly at the thought, but felt that smile slip off her face when she realised they were at his block.

 _Oh god oh god oh god oh god_. And now they were actually walking up his steps. _Oh god oh god_. "Pray for me, Phoebe," she entreated, as her friend lifted her hand and banged the knocker.

The door opened, and the tall figure of Rhonda appeared, in her trademark red. "Helga, darling! I wasn't sure if you would come."

"Hi, Rhonda," said Phoebe and Helga, in very different tones. The stepped into the hallway and unzipped their thick coats, Helga pulling at her skirt in an effort to avoid showing Rhonda her ass.

"Why Phoebe, you look absolutely marvelous in that dress; blue is _so_ your colour. And Helga!" she exclaimed, giving her outfit a pointed look up and down. "Still have the hots for Arnold I see?"

Helga growled. "Can it. I can wear a skirt whenever I damn well feel like it."

"Oh, of _course_ ," said Rhonda, with a giant smirk. "And you always seemed to feel more like it when a certain football head was around."

Helga growled again and threw her coat on the rack. "Come on, Pheebs," she ordered, and marched into the sitting room.

Her eyes did a rapid scan of the area, looking for the one person who may stop her heart dead. Gerlad, Nadine, Sheena, Sid... Almost all the old PS118 crew, in fact. But no Arnold. Where the hell was he; it was _his_ house.

Her question was answered when he appeared around the corner from the kitchen, holding a tray of drinks. Helga hated clichés, but time really did seem to slow down in those seconds. Every moment held so much _feeling_ and import that it seemed to take a year. "Anyone want..."

His eyes met hers, and they seemed to share an electric shock. But he recovered quickly, "...drinks? Orange soda, anyone?"

He looked... Well. Wow. Being seventeen really suited Arnold. He looked to be around her height now, 5'10". His shoulders were much broader than when she had last seen him, and of course he was tanned from his time in San Lorenzo. He looked...like a man. A _handsome_ man. _Oh God, we really are almost grown up, aren't we._ The stakes were going to be higher this time around than they had ever been in the past. They would get higher with every passing year. No more games.

She tried to stop staring at him. "Oh my god, Phoebe!" she said quietly, desparately. "He's so handsome I can't even stand it! Typical Arnold, always has to be perfect." She couldn't help the bitterness.

Phoebe was prevented from responding by the appearance of Gerald. "Hey, babe!" he said, kissing his girlfriend on the cheek. "Lookin fly, as always."

"Oh, thank you Gerald," said Pheobe, somewhat distractedly.

"Hey, come help me decide on the tunes, would you?" he asked enthusiastically, and started to pull Phoebe away by the arm. He never normally wanted to let anyone interfere in his choosing of crappy music.

"Uhm, wait just a second, Gerald..." She had promised not to leave Helga.

"Hey!" Too late.

Helga turned to see those green eyes looking into hers. Gerald had clearly been sent to remove Phoebe.

She tried to remember how to speak.


	5. Chapter 5

AN: Some teenage drinking ahead, just as a probably unnecessary warning.

* * *

"...Arnold! It's...good to see you." That was something a normal human would say, wasn't it? She had no idea. She tugged at her skirt.

He smiled in a way that was...well, she wasn't sure. "You too," he said sincerely. He looked a little awkward then. "Enjoying the party?"

"Yeah. Well, I mean, I just got here. But it's...nice having everyone together?" she tried.

He nodded enthusiastically. "Yeah, I'm having a really good time catching up. I've missed so much! And I was hoping..." He took a deep breath, as if he was about to do something very scary. "I was hoping we could talk. Catch up, and...talk about the way...things ended. I mean, I was going to leave it for a while, but I figure we'll have to talk eventually, and maybe it's best to...get the awkwardness out of the way?" She realised that he was actually asking her if she agreed with this plan.

"Uhm...yeah...I... I mean, you're right. I suppose..." _I suppose putting it off won't make it any easier._ He was clearly on one of his missions, and that scared her. The mission could have been cutting her loose, or getting them to be friends, or getting them back together. She had no idea. 'Talking' could have meant any of those things. She wished he could have just been more easygoing about it...but then, neither of them was at all easygoing.

He sighed in relief. "Great. I've really missed you, Helga..."

Oh God. She could feel herself going under. He was almost too bright and shiny to her eyes, too brilliant to look at, especially with that uninterpretable look on his face. In that moment, she would have given almost anything to be in his arms again, to have him forever. But that was dangerous. She couldn't feel like that.

"Arnold!" came a shout from the kitchen. "Could you come and help your little friend here?"

"Coming, grandpa!" Arnold grimaced. "Rhonda. To get her to cancel her party on such short notice, I had to agree to let her co-host. And I've got to help her with her _next three_ parties."

Helga grimaced back, trying her best to hide her thoughts. "My condolences. Princess does drive a hard bargain."

Arnold's grandpa called again, "Before she tears the kitchen apart, would be nice, Shortman."

Arnold sighed in frustration. "I better go. I'll find you later, okay? Have a nice time," he said with a somewhat nervous smile.

He headed for the kitchen, and Helga headed for Phoebe. Her friend was sitting on the couch next to Gerald, looking through his iPod with him. She grabbed her arm. "Phoebe, _ohmygodicantdothis_."

But before her taken aback friend even had a chance to respond, a genius idea occurred to her. "Wait a sec," she said, and walked over to a corner where Sid and Harold were huddled together, ignoring Pheobe's calls after her. She chose her target. "Pinkboy," she said, making him jump, "I need some of your booze."

Harold became even pinker when he drank, and it was clear from his rosey hue that he, Sid and Stinky had managed to procure alcohol for the night. He frowned at her. "Why didn't you bring your own?"

 _Because my mother's in AA and we have no alcohol in the house other than the shit she hides_. "Gimme some Harold, seriously."

His jaw set in its usual childish way. He had gotten bigger over the years - he now stood at 6'5" and weighed more than the average elephant - but he had remained ostensibly the same since he was three. "Why should I?"

"Because I _neeed_ it, Harold!" she said, not bothering to mask her desperation.

She saw him glance towards the kitchen, where Arnold was visible going through the cupboards. It's not as if their history wasn't known to everyone, embarrassed as that made her at times. He groaned. "Fine. But you owe me, Pataki!"

"Yeah, yeah; I'll get you back next time. Now gimme."

He groaned again. "Come on." And he led her to the downstairs bathroom, where they wouldn't be seen by any stray adult eyes or others looking for free booze. Sid followed along. "Don't give her too much, man," he said, as Harold poured some of the drink contained in his Coke bottle into a cup for Helga.

He shrugged. "It's fine; I have a flask of vodka left. But don't go telling anyone that!" he warned Helga.

She snorted. "I won't. Thanks," she added as she lifted the cup to her lips, though she still found it hard to use that word.

There was indeed some cola in the drink she'd been poured. Or rather, the ghost of cola desolved in paint-stripper quality vodka. But it would do for the purposes of courage. As long she didn't overdo it and end up humiliating herself by pouring her heart out or jumping on him or something... Well still, there was no way she was facing this sober.

Now, back into the breach to update Phoebe.


	6. Chapter 6

"So...what are you going to say?"

"I don't know, Phoebe! That depends on what _he_ says."

"But, I mean... If he wants to get back together, what will you say?"

"...I don't know! It..."

"Do you _want_ to get back together?"

That was the question, wasn't it. And she supposed there was only one answer. She deflated. "Of course I do. But it's not that simple. I want to be with him, but I just don't want things to be like they were before. I don't think I could cope with things ending that way again."

"...Well I mean Helga... Obviously there's no guarantee that you'll stay together if you get together again." Helga winced at the truth of that. "But you can try and make things different to before. You've matured so much; I know things will be different on your side. Talk to him, tell him your concerns. I'm sure he'll be willing to try harder too."

Helga nodded. Phoebe made it sound so simple. "Of course, that's assuming he doesn't just want to tell me to get lost."

Phoebe frowned. "I think that's highly unlikely, considering his behaviour." She glanced around furtively and leaned towards Helga. "And Gerald told me Arnold's been 'totally hung up' over you."

Helga felt her heart inflate. "He has?" Godammit, what even was that Disney tone of voice.

Phoebe nodded with a conspiratorial smile.

Feeling unusually demonstrative thanks to Harold's vodka, Helga leaned into her friend on the couch on wrapped her in a hug. "Thanks, Pheebs. Whatever happens with me and Arnold, I'm always happy I have you. And I promise I'll try not to be such a pain in the ass about it all this time."

Phoebe giggled and hugged her tipsy friend back. "You were never a pain in the ass."

Helga snorted.

"Hey!" came Arnold's cheery voice. They parted to see him standing behind the couch, a smile on his face. "Sorry to interrupt. Phoebe, do you mind if I borrow Helga for a bit?"

She smiled and shook her head. "Of course not. I'll just go and keep Gerald company." And she got up to go join him.

Helga smiled awkwardly at Arnold, assuming he was about to sit down beside her, but he cleared his throat and said, "Uhm...do you mind if we go somewhere more private? Just don't really want everyone trying to eavesdrop. Maybe my room?"

Oh God. Helga gulped. "Sure." So she got up with slightly shaky legs and they left the room, a few pairs of nosey eyes on them. The drink that she'd downed was so strong, stuff was spinning a little, but she still felt more or less in control.

They didn't really say anything to each other as they ascended the stairs, each nervous and in their own thoughts. Arnold tripped a bit on the top step, and Helga snorted. "You drunk, Arnoldo?"

What she didn't expect was for his ears to redden. "A little. Rhonda kept offering me some of her vodka and cranberry, and I was feeling nervous, so..."

She laughed, and tried not to think about Rhonda's motivations for plying Arnold with alcohol. "Well, at least I'm not the only tipsy one. Since when do you drink?"

He shrugged. "Well there's no real drinking age in San Lorenzo, so the kids there used to drink loads of pisco and beer. I didn't join in very often, especially since my parents didn't like it, but I used to have beer sometimes."

It occurred to Helga that he had lived a very unusual life for the past few years. She hoped it hadn't included too many beautiful native girls.

They reached his attic room, and the tension was palpable as they entered. It had barely changed a bit since the last time she'd been here, the day he'd broken up with her. The cloying pain of the memory bit at her. Determined to avoid the bed, Helga went to sit on his red couch, and Arnold followed her lead, sitting beside her.

He took a deep breath. "Helga, I am so sorry for the way I left things. I... We'd been through so much, and in the end I just ran away. You deserved better than that."

Helga tightened her mouth against the emotion she was was feeling. She'd waited years for that apology, but never really expected to receive it. "So you... So you did leave because of us?" _Because of me._

Arnold looked away from her, starting down at his hand. "Partly. Ever since I found my parents, I'd been considering it. But...when I made the decision to break up..." Helga's heart twinged. "...I thought it might be better for both of us to get some distance. But...it was a lot harder than I thought. I left everything behind, not just you. And I missed you so much." His voice was thick.

Helga felt overwhelmed. She had always feared that he had just been glad to be rid of her. "I missed you too," she said quietly, and they sat in silence for a few moments. She wondered if he was struggling with the same urge to touch.

He looked at her then, pain in his eyes. "Then why didn't you write back?"

She looked down at her lap; she'd been fearing this question. "Because I didn't know what to say. I couldn't be _pen-pals_ with you. It... And I know I was far from blameless in the scenario, but you broke my heart," she admitted, barely able to force the words out. "It took me a long time to...get back to myself afterwards. And I knew if I kept writing you, I just wouldn't be able to get over you. I'm sorry."

He nodded glumly. "I was figuring it might have been something like that. At least, I was hoping it wasn't because you hated me."

"Well... I did hate you a little. Or a lot, at times. Depended on the day."

He laughed a bit. "Well I deserved it." He shook his head. "I still don't really understand how we got things so messed up, when we get along so well and...cared about each other so much."

Helga gave a sad smile. "We were both very young. I got too jealous, and you...had a tendency to take me for granted a little." She shook her head. "I'm sorry I was so insecure. I knew you weren't the type of guy to stray, but it was like I had this jealous monster in me and I took it out on you." Her eyes were tearing up in guilt and shame at her behaviour; she sniffed and wiped her eyes with her hand, make-up coming off. Great, now she was going to look like a mess _and_ a basket-case.

He grabbed her other hand where it sat on the couch. "Hey, no. I never should have given you so much reason to feel insecure. And anyway, I didn't bring you up here to talk about the past or make us feel bad. I wanted to talk about...where we go from here. Or actually...I wanted to beg you to give me another shot."


End file.
